


Outmatched

by LiterallyThePresident



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate title: Hawke learns he has a strength kink, Fenris is Strong and Hawke is Gay, M/M, Oblivious Fenris, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyThePresident/pseuds/LiterallyThePresident
Summary: Fenris has to physically carry Hawke from a fight. He doesn’t get why Hawke is so flustered about it.





	Outmatched

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing these two but I love them

Fenris and Isabella had a running tally on how many times they were ambushed in the Wounded Coast, and this latest one put Fenris in the lead. He tried to keep that in mind as he and Hawke were surrounded, but it seemed misery was a constant companion in his life.

“Can’t we ever just have a nice walk on the beach?” Hawke sighed, though Fenris saw the excitement behind the false exasperation, “Is a nice day of sun and surf without even a little bloodshed too much to ask?”

“That would imply the Coast has sun.” Fenris retorted, looking around at their new enemies. Something was different about this group, he noticed. They seemed more organized than previous attackers, more of a threat than random bandits. And there were much more of them than usual, enough to give Fenris pause as he calculated their odds. He came to a conclusion quickly. There was no way they could win against these odds, even with Hawke’s fantastic luck. They were outmatched.

“Hawke...” he warned, shifting his foot as if to flee, but Hawke didn’t follow.

“We can handle this.” he grinned, twirling his staff, “We’ve fought worse than this lot.”

Maybe if they had a full party, but it was just the two of them. Fenris saw clearly that if they engaged, they would lose. He also saw that Hawke would not be persuaded, bullheaded and stubborn as he was. He’d get them both killed if Fenris didn’t do something. So he did something.

He moved quickly, sweeping Hawke off his feet and up into his arms and taking off, ignoring Hawke’s yelp of surprise. The attackers clearly hadn’t expected them to flee, and by the time they organized a pursuit the two men had an unbeatable head start. He took a winding route, clutching Hawke close and periodically glancing back to ensure they weren’t being followed.

Hawke was very quiet, which was unusual for him. The mage was also unnaturally warm, Fenris noticed, and his arms were tight around his shoulders. Fenris felt heat rise in his cheeks at the muscles he could feel pressed to his skin, the hair tickling his ear and the breath warming his neck, but he shoved that feeling down for examination later. He ran until he was certain he’d lost them, finally coming to a halt behind a rock outcropping.

“You are a fool.” he snapped, dumping Hawke unceremoniously on the ground, feeling vindictive at the squawk he recieved, “You would have died like a dog had you stayed and fought.”

“You-!” Hawke’s cheeks were bright red, and he made no effort to get up from his prone position on the ground. His adam’s apple bobbed distractingly as he looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, and Fenris felt heat rise in his core at the look. He ruthlessly tamped it down, his scowl deepening as he crossed his arms.

“If you are so determined to die, do so when I am not in danger.” he scowled, “And stop _looking_ at me like that!”

“You just... picked me up.” Hawked said a little breathlessly, “Like I weighed nothing at all. You carried me like a mile without breaking a sweat.”

“So what?” Fenris rolled his eyes, glancing around for any sign of pursuit. The coast was clear, but it never hurt to be careful.

“So what?” Hawke asked incredulously, “So _what?_ Fenris, you’re like half my size!”

“I’m not seeing your point.” Fenris said, stubbornly _not_ looking at the tousled state of Hawke’s hair or the way he was looking at Fenris like a moonstruck protagonist in one of Varric’s novels, “What are you on about?”

“...Nothing.” Hawke finally said, closing his mouth, “But... could you be a dear and pull me up?” He offered his hand, a twinkle in his eyes. Good. Fenris preferred that to the oddly vulnerable look that made his skin feel too warm.

“You are not injured. Are you?” Fenris gave him a quick once-over, just to be sure. Had he missed something? His stomach churned unpleasantly at the thought, though he wasn’t sure why. It was just Hawke, after all.

“Oh yes, I’m terribly injured.” Hawke said with false sincerity, “Carried off like a swooning maiden, my poor pride is wounded beyond belief. It may never recover.”

“You are incorrigible.” Fenris grumbled, but he took the proffered hand and hauled the man to his feet with a small grunt of effort. Hawke got that breathless look again as he was pulled close, just before Fenris stepped back to a more respectable distance, “There. Now let us leave this detestable place.”

“Anything you want.” Hawke murmured, more to himself with Fenris. Fenris didn’t ask what he meant, setting off towards Kirkwall. He was tired and annoyed and he just wanted to curl up with a bottle of wine and grumble to himself about the idiocy of men.

Hawke was oddly quiet on the walk back. It seemed somehow longer without his inane chatter.


End file.
